A/N: Well, sorry guys for the delay, I had a lot to catch up, but here it is, chapter 8, the longest chapter ever, lol. Again, thanks to all of you who put this story in their alert list or as a favorite, or favorited me. Many thanks to all who wrote me a review, you guys you're making my day every time you're writing those kind comments, so really thanks, you guys rock.
And to Bladraggon189, my so wonderful beta friend who managed to fix my mistakes even with all the work she has on her shoulder, so thanks Liz.
Warning: From now on, you may find Mac is a bit OOC, well then, I'll ask you to bear with me as it's part of the story.
Summary: A man finds a body. When he picks up the ID in the coat, it reads "Detective first grade Mac Taylor". Is Mac really dead? What will Stella do when she'll learn the news? Angsty Smacked...with the whole team.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.
He opened his eyes to find himself in the same white, hospital room as when he'd first woken up. Slowly, his sight wandered into the room, going to the gleaming monitors on his left and to the door in front of him. Then, his sight stopped on the golden, curly ball of hair nestled over his right hand. He frowned, remembering what had happened last night; her, Stella, hugging him when he had pronouncedher name. He sighed; sure he had recognized her, in truth, he had never forgotten her as her somehow blurred image had remained burned in his mind even in the deep, freezing, black hole he had been trapped.
He swallowed the deep lump lodged in his throat. What had he done? He remembered her name right, but he wasn't feeling anything for her, and the way she hugged him last night made him wondered if there was anything more than a simple friendship between them. He let out a deep breath when he felt the beginning of a headache crawling into his neck and setting place behind his eyes. How could he tell her that? How could he tell her that he didn't feel a thing? Not for her, nor for anyone? That he knew her name but that was all.
He looked out the window. The sun was already up and shining brightly its golden rays into his room, melting the small ice on the bottom corners of the window. Seeing Stella's eyes gleaming with hope had been a tearing moment. Should he tell her that he only remembered her name and some confused images but nothing else? It was like she was expecting so much from him that it scared him. His identity remained a blurry wreck of screaming and heart wrenching images for him as if someone had laid a thick veil over his past. But if she was right, yesterday, he had something to begin with; a cop? A shy smile displayed over his lips. Funny how when you asked for something, sometimes life made it happened. Although, in his case, it hadn't appeared from thin air, he was this cop, Mac Taylor, that she talked about. Unfortunately, even if the name rang a bell, he was far from remembering his past life, though he did remember talking to her in various places but that was all.
His tensed gaze looked beyond the towers behind the window and into the shining sun; he had a lot to catch up. Raising his left hand, he brought it up to his forehead and rubbed slightly at the stitches; a small bump was protruding beneath it. A dull throbbing echoed in his head as soon as he touched the bruise, and he shut his eyes under the pain. His hand rubbed tiredly at his face. When he finally opened them, it was to look at a pair of dazzling, emerald eyes staring at him with worry.
"I'm okay," he whispered before she started to ask. He didn't know why but it felt like a reflex to toss that answer to her.
"Oh yeah, you look fine," she dropped bitterly, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, obviously not convinced at his statement.
Whatever, he wasn't about to start to argue for something like that, and he got the feeling that she could be a real pain in the neck when she wanted to. Taking a deep breath, he avoided her stare and rose on his elbows, trying to sit; he was tired of lying like some kind of cripple. But he realized too late that he had been a bit too confident as a hot, flaring pain exploded in his right side, burning his chest, setting his body on fire. The muscles of his neck stiffened under the shooting pain and his forehead was quickly beaded in sweat. He felt dizzy and nauseous, breathing loudly before he felt a firm hand pressing gently on his chest to lie back down. Too tired, he looked up and met her unyielding, green gaze, and lost himself in the green fields unable to resist to her slight pressure, letting her guide him back to the comfort of his bed.
"Mac," her soft voice echoed in the room. "You should know better than to try to move with a bullet hole in your side." She gave him a weary smile. It was obvious that he was hurting, and she couldn't help but wince as he had tried to sit wearily. Always doing his best to hurt himself even when he didn't remember who he was.
He swallowed, his breath coming in short rasps now, his eyes still locked with hers. To his surprise, she pressed on a button and the top of his bed was slowly lifted with a mechanic sound until he was in a sitting position. This time he could see a bit more of his room without twisting his neck or hurting his fresh wounds.
"Next time, ask," she continued, trying to display a small smile. Just ask, I'll always be there.
He nodded silently, his eyes sill locked with hers. It was amazing how he couldn't leave the gleaming light sparkling behind the green fields of her eyes. That's weird. Then, his coarse, grating voice broke the silence as he tried to speak to thank her, but instead, he ended up in a deep, wrenching cough. A burning itch in his throat sent tremors to his back and chest, re-awakening the pain everywhere in his body.
Bent in two, he heard Stella through his loud coughs whisper a hold on, before a glass of water appeared miraculously in front of him. His hands shaking a bit, he managed to cup the glass and gulp avidly at the water. Immediately, he felt grateful as the cold liquid soothed his burning throat with delight, and he let out a faint cough. Then, the fire finally subsided and she took back the glass from his shakings hands.
"Better?" she asked a bit nervous as she saw him quivering. The feeling of cold won't leave him before a few days, echoed Dr Shen's words. She bit her lower lip as she laid the glass on his nightstand, and stared at his frail body.
"Yeah, thanks," he replied after another weak cough this time. "I guess...I'm not gonna sing anytime soon," he joked, trying to lighten the too silent atmosphere.
"I guess not," she replied, a deep crease carving her forehead. The sound of his grating voice echoed in her mind as she recalled the harsh words she had told him on the phone, guilt nestling inside her chest. How could she have not recognized him?
His blue eyes met hers still staring at him, a shadow lingered in her eyes before he glanced back at the window, avoiding her further looks of worry. There was something with this woman that he couldn't understand, something mysterious about her, and although he didn't feel a thing because of his buried past, her way to stand beside him was enough to make him tensed, but he didn't know why.
"So what else can you tell me?" he asked, leaning his head back on the fluffy pillow and shutting his eyes for a second, as he tried to calm the throbbing headache still hammering behind his eyes.
Stella watched him, her worries more evident when he closed his eyes. Mac had rarely shown her when he was drained and today was among the few times she had really seen him this tired. She bit her lower lip as she stared at the dark, purple bruise coloring his skin over his left temple, making it clearly hard to distinguish the black row of stitches continuing under his damp hair. Her stomach churned however at the dark bags carved under his eyes, proofof his deadly fight for survival the day before. She sighed, grateful they had found him on time.
Hearing no answers from Stella, Mac opened his eyes to find her staring at him, again, but this time her look was bearing the lingering shadow of dread and fear. He frowned trying to shave away the awkwardness of the situation. "So..." he began, trying to pull her from her dark thoughts, "we're partners, right?"
A smile grazed at her lips as she sat back in her chair. "You remember?" She couldn't help but hope that all the stuff about Mac's conditions and the PTSD had been a mistake; that Shen was wrong, but her hopes quickly faded as Mac shook his head with a silent no.
"Just deduced it from the way you talked about him...I mean... me... on the phone." Yeah, he had to get used to it now, after all, he, was him. He smirked at the crazy thought.
Her face suddenly changed into an expression of deep pain, as his words brought her back to her harsh words spoken out of anger and fear for him. He could have died with those angry words as the last thing she had told him. And still now, she could see in his eyes how it was still hurting him, not trusting her. She couldn't be angry after him for being mad at her for it.
"I didn't know, I'm sorry, Mac. Your voice was so..." She sighed, how could she explain to her best friend that she hadn't recognized him, interferences or not, she should have. She should have believed he would find a way.
"Nah, it's fine. I got the same problem, so...we're partners?" he asked again, not sure why she was always reluctant to answer his questions.
She swallowed and gazed at his pale face, trying to catch what was so odd about him. Of course the fact he didn't remember was a part of it, but it seemed like there was something else he was hiding. Seeing him waiting for an answer, she shook the idea and opened her mouth to speak.
"Yes, we're partners."
"And..." he wondered, his forehead creasing to her short answer. Do I have to ask her everything to get a straight answer?
"Well, what do you want to know?" she repeated again, trying not to give up things that, according to his doctor, he wouldn't be prepared to hear.
He sighed, okay if he had to ask her he would, but really he was beginning to be annoyed to ask, and he felt his frustration building up already.
"Since when do we know each other? What exactly do I do as a cop? You know, just tell me everything you know." He encouraged her, hoping she got the hint.
She looked at him, before she carefully answered, hoping he wasn't going to respond badly to her answer. "We've been friends for ten years and for the rest, your doctor said it would be better for you to retrieve your memory by yourself, at your own pace."
"Says the person who knows everything about her past and mine..." he bitterly finished.
He sighed. "Yeah, always easier to say that when you're on the other side with all the answers, while, I, remain inside the thick fog, probingemptiness," he huffed, unhappy.
He wouldn't get any real answer from her he realized, sadly. Suddenly, he felt angry and more alone than ever, even in that damn cold hole he had hope, but if freedom meant people looking at him while he was struggling to find clues about his past, what good did it do to him to have friends like her? What good did they all think they were doing by keeping things from him? He needed answers and all they could provide was more blank walls. Friends, he bitterly thought, they should be there for you when you need them, not leaving you to stare at the wreck your life has turned into.
His pained expression hit her hard. "I'm sorry Mac, I didn't want to hurt you. I..." She looked down as the image of his defeated face from their previous argument appeared before her eyes to haunt her, her heart pounding behind her temples.
"He doesn't matter anyway," he lied, seeing the hurt on her face and trying to swallow the boiling rage soaring through his gut. "I guess, I just got to get use to it right?" He admitted, as he tried to put a brave face, but with the stitches biting into his flesh, all he managed was to get a weary smile. "Not that bad really." He added, still staring at her, waiting for her to get back to normal. Although after a moment, seeing she was still lost in her deep, hurting thoughts, he bit his lower lip and sighed. She should be somewhere else than waiting for an angry bastard to recover his memory, her boss would probably be mad at her for sticking with him so long. Okay time to let her go.
"Listen, I didn't want to hurt you or bug you," he began, hoping she would take the excuse as it came to his mind. "I got that you probably have other things to do then stick to my bed waiting for me to remember things I might never do..." his voice trailed off, and his eyes caught a strange shadow in her eyes. Is it fear? He shook the idea, it was too late anyway, now he really wanted to be alone, and she should really leave before he lost control of his own anger. "So, I guess it would be better if you leave and let me some time to remember on my own." Since you can't provide me with any real answers, his tired brain shot.
She looked up, stunned by what he had just said. Did Mac Taylor just kick her out of his room? Was he shelling back sooner than what she had expected? Don't do that to yourself, Mac, she pleaded. Don't push me away.
"I can stay, I don't..." a knot formed in her throat at the thought of leaving him alone, again, her hands tightening together. But her fear was getting real as each of his words was spoken aloud.
"It's okay, it's better for me anyway, and you probably have better things to do..." His voice trailed off as he took a slow breath and looked out the window, avoiding her pain stare.
Better? Her mind shot sadly, how can anything be better than staying with my wounded friend? "Mac..."
"Just drop by later if you have a minute," he cut her off. "And maybe I'll remember some stuff that I will be able to compare with you then." He lay down comfortably and closed his eyes, it was time to let her go. "I'm a bit tired," he said, using it as an excuse to let her go. "See you later."
"Mac, I..." but she couldn't finish, as the lump had now invaded her entire throat and she couldn't talk anymore.
The image of him leaving his office the day before hit her hard, and she was unable to speak, air having deserted her lungs. I hurt him again, she thought, as she slowly rose onto her feet, her heart beating hard in her chest, her hands trembling slightly. She stared, bemused at his pale face, his eyes now shut. She couldn't do anything else but comply with his wishes. Dr Shen had strongly advised her against any kind of emotional stress as it could trigger a setback, and arguing was on the top of the very bad things to do list. But this, she hadn't prepared herself for it. She swallowed, her breath short.
"I...I...sorry," she mumbled as her legs slowly drove her to the door, sorrow filling her soul. As she glanced back at him, looking asleep, sank into the white sheets, she cursed herself for being so helpless when he needed her, before she opened the door and exited with trembling footsteps.
"I...I'll see you later," she whispered totally lost as the door closed behind her. After all that had happened, she hadn't been able to reach to him. How can it be? Am I losing my best friend?
Silently, he opened his eyes and watched the door being shut. He sighed, he knew that he should feel something; sorry, maybe ashamed for what he did, or at least guilty for telling her off like that, but it didn't really matter. He was too empty inside and nothing seemed to fill that void; no joy nor pain. Turning his head to the window, he stared at the sun now covered with grey, angry clouds, the sky getting ready for another round of snow. Well, he would apologize to her later, just to make sure she hadn't taken that too bad. He smirked, though there was nothing to be sorry for anyway. If she was his friend, she should understand that he needed some space too, he thought as his anger soared suddenly and erupted in his mind in a chaos of images and sickening screams.
He wanted to shout, and yell at the people he could see running in his mind, ask them who they were and what was happening. He wanted to get the hell out of here and out of this hospital too, but he knew he was still too weak for that. He let out a tired breath as the images slowly faded, leaving him alone with his rage and sorrow, his fists clenched at his sides. Blinking through the bead of sweats running from his forehead, he stared bitterly at the blank ceiling over him. Then finally, after an hour and half of tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, awaking his wounds in the process and racking his brain for answers about his own identity that never came, he finally gave in to exhaustion. He was about to fall asleep too tired to think as a wrenching pain had settled everywhere in his body, when the door of his room was pushed open and two nurses came in; a young, tall, dark haired male and an old blond lady saluted him.
"Hello Detective Taylor. How are you feeling today?" The female nurse asked.
"Like someone who doesn't remember a thing," he replied angrily, his eyes blinking at the heavy sleep weighing on his tired eyelids.
"Aw, I see," replied the nurse with a smile. "Someone's grumpy today."
He huffed, "doesn't change the situation anyway."
"You're right, but don't worry, I'm sure it will come back to you in time, and that's why we're here. Dr Shen wants us to run some tests. Are you ready to go for a tour?"
He gave her a tired smile. "Do I have the choice?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.
She nodded, almost scolding him like a child.
Great. Now, even the nurses were going to be mad at him. He sighed, trying to calm the uncontrolled, harsh anger still boiling inside him. He tried to focus on the fact that he was going to leave this cold room, and somehow, the perspective of seeing other things finally got the better of him, and he felt his anger slowly fade away. He mumbled a small sorry to the nurse as he tried to sit, but she was faster than him and she gently pushed him back against the pillows.
"No detective," she cut. "You're not leaving this bed. We'll be your drivers for today."
He sighed as his throbbing head fell back, sadly, onto the fluffy pillow. So much for some action. Tests. That wasn't fun. He took a long breath as he nodded toward the nurses.
"Well, then, let's go," she said as she and her friend began to wheel him out of his room. As they passed the doors, he noticed the two police officers standing before his door, but, too tired he didn't make anything of it, and he lay back, sleep already starting to pull him away.
Blinking wearily, he stared at the ceiling moving over him and wondered if Stella would come back to see him and if this time she would tell him more about his past, but with the way he talked to her, he was afraid she wouldn't show up before next year. He pouted, if there was one thing he was almost sure, it was that he hated hospitals, and the moving, depressing, white ceiling over him wasn't really what he would have called a tour. He sighed.
"You know he's in good hands with us, officer," said one of the nurse as she turnedto the cop following them, drawing Mac's attention as his eyes had closed once again.
"Yes ma'am, I know. But I have my orders, and I'm not allowed to leave him alone at anytime," replied the young police officer as they all turned a corner, Mac being wheeled before the group.
"Who asked you to do that?" asked Mac through a grating voice, as he felt his body tensed and the rage back, angry that Stella didn't trust him enough to tell him about them.
If he was a cop as she told him, then, there was no reason for him to leave this hospital, so why the guards? And why not tell him? He felt his anger surge again. Well then, he had been right all along. They're trying to set me up, his mind screamed. She lied since the beginning. I'm their prisoner. He clenched his jaw as anger rose in his eyes.
"Detective Flack's orders, sir," answered the police officer.
Flack. The name seemed familiar but nothing came to his mind as he looked at the hallway full of nurses and doctors going one way and the other. He knew that right now he was in no condition to leave his bed and walk away from here, but maybe later after the test. If he could just sneak out and get rid of those cops. But for that he would have to avoid the medication he was on which was making him drowsy and weak. Then, maybe he'd have a chance to get to know the truth by himself. His fists tightened, thinking about Stella, if it was her real name. He felt betrayed, and alone. He had trusted her and she had lied to him. They weren't friends, she had played him all along, and he was defenseless against them. He swore he wasn't going to go down without a fight, as his fists clenched from the rage boiling inside him, his knuckles went white. No. He wasn't going to let them trap him that easily.
xxx
Her steps echoed like a deafening sentence in the hallway as she replayed this morning in her head, and sighed loudly. She stepped inside the elevator and her shoulders sagged as she leaned against the back wall, her eyes closed. Why did the things have to be so complicated with him? Again, their simple talk had turned into hurting both of them. She let out her breath and composed her professional face as the doors opened to the ME's office. Maybe Sid would have news about the ID of the mysterious man that they found with Mac. Hoping to change her mood, she walked toward the shining rows of autopsy tables as Sid was talking to his assistant. As he turned toward her, she faked her best smile and looked down at the body resting under a blue sheet.
"How's Mac?" enquired Sid, immediately, his face worried.
She flinched and lost her fake smile instantly. Mac, she moaned mentally.
"He's recovering slowly," she dropped. Nobody beside her and Flack knew about the fact that he was suffering from PTSD, and his memory loss alone had already worried most of the lab. Furthermore, knowing Mac, he would probably prefer to keep things low, not wanting everyone to know about his condition. She shook her head. No, it was definitely a matter she preferred to keep for herself. Mac had enough already to cope with.
"I understand he doesn't remember us?" enquired, softly, Sid as he saw pain linger in her green, emerald eyes.
She nodded. "He's remembering a few things, but his doctor said we'll know more after he had run more tests." She let out a small sigh as her gaze wandered over the covered body under the blue sheet that could hold all the answers they needed.
"Knowing Mac, and how he has a hard head, they had to give him a hell of a blow to shake him like that," continued Sid with a smile, trying to light up her mood, but it didn't work and his face went back to being serious.
She closed her eyes a second before locking them into Sid's. "I don't know Sid, I was hoping you'd have something for me," she finished hoping to change the subject to a less painful one.
Sid put back his glasses on his nose. "Well," he said as he rolled the sheet to the body's waist. "I can tell you that our DOA is a male, thirty nine, not in good shape seeing his organs," he smirked as his chin pointed to a translucent bowl where he had set the body's liver. "If he hadn't died already I would have given him a few more years at best, seeing the amount of alcohol his organs were filled with."
"So, heavy drinker, huh?" she commented.
He nodded, and his hand pointed on a part behind the body's back as he lifted the body and showed a small tattoo, carved on the right shoulder. The small drawing represented a small Doberman jumping at the throat of a cop.
"Not a cop lover, I guess?" she smirked.
"It seems." Looked, sternly, Sid.
"COD?" she asked although she could bet the pole in his head had surely done the trick anyway.
"Well, it's not what you think if I may," he replied with a serious look as he totally removed the sheet and showed her a wound entering right under the heart. "Knife wound," stated impassibly Sid. "The blade entered through the large intestine," said Sid as he mimicked the movement of the blade with his hand. "It continued through the stomach to finally pierce the left ventricle right here." He showed her a point on a radio behind him. "He probably struggled for a minute before his heart stopped." His face lighted up suddenly. "It's quite a move indeed to enter the blade like this. Maybe he tried to attack Mac and I can't say I saw the guy on the field using his Marine tricks, but it sounds like an expert move to me."
"So he was killed, not on accident then." She stated with a stern look, her eyes glaring at the body before her. This man could have really tried to kill Mac. She swallowed silently as she felt her stomach churn at the thought of Mac having to kill to save his life as he had been alone. If only she could have been there for him. She looked up, trying to be casual with Sid as her thoughts were wandering in turmoil.
"Well, it appears like it," he said with a frown, not understanding why Stella hadn't agreed with his theory. They all knew Mac had a former training in killing skills as a Marine. Obviously, if their boss had to kill him, it had to be in self defense, so why Stella wasn't backing up his theory. Something was going on, and she wasn't about to let him know about it. He sighed silently but chose to ignore the question and continued. "But you see this," he added pointing at different scars marking the body's stomach, left side and continuing to his collarbone. "These are quite old. I'd said more than ten years at least."
She frowned. "So if he has been in a hospital for that we might have a record of it."
Sid shook his head. "I thought about that, since you found no valid prints to go with, but so far I haven't got any feedback from the main hospitals of New York."
She sighed, her right hand rubbing, unconsciously, her left shoulder.
"I'm sorry Stella," added Sid, as he gave her a worried glance. "Will you be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine Sid. It's Mac who worries me." She frowned, scared would be a better word, she admitted to herself.
"That bad?" He lightly questioned.
She swallowed as she felt tears starting to wet her eyes, but with a deep breath, she was able to keep them at bay. "I'm just..." She frowned, not knowing how to say it clearly. "You know... It's so confusing sometime."
"Well, I'm sure that when he'll be back to his own self, he'll be glad you have stuck to him and helped him to get through this," Sid assured her with a reassuring smile.
She drew a deep breath. "I hope you're right, Sid."
He gave her his best smile. "You two are so alike, Stella."
She frowned, not sure of what the ME Chief meant by that.
He took off his glasses and let them hang around his neck before he gave a small sigh and locked eyes with hers. "When he's angry, you're angry. If you're sad, he's sad," he began. "When you're happy, well, I guess you got the picture?"
She nodded understanding now where he was going.
"Whatever happened to one of you, it hits the other as well. So I guess, it's gonna take some time before things are back to normal, but I've never seen the two of you let go the other, and since you two are alive, things can only go up and get back to normal eventually. I have no doubt about that."
"Thanks Sid," she said, feeling her fears starting slowly to fade. Sid was right, even if things were complicated, at one point she and Mac had always found a way to set things right. So why not this time too? Because of the PTSD factor? No, she should trust Mac. Even with his memory a wreck, she knew him. People don't change that easily. Well, she hoped, but then, she would be there for him. And as long as neither one of them was stranded alone, she would have faith in them. She shot a weak smile to Sid.
"Thanks," she repeated softly.
He smiled back. "Anytime."
She turned her heels, and headed to the elevator.
"Hey, you tell Mac we miss him," Sid called from behind her.
"I will Sid," she replied, walking with a new strength. I will.
xxx
He looked at the window, his warm breath leaving a small humid cloud on the frosted glass. With this weather growing worse, and the snow pilingup outside, Tommy was going to be hard to keep in place, though he was sure of one thing; he wasn't going to pull a hike outside.
Martin turned toward his brother sitting in the couch, with a stern look. When their mother had died, she had asked him to keep an eye on him. Even if his mama had never approved his 'career choice', she wanted them to stay together, and Martin to take care of him. He sighed. She knew that Tommy would get in trouble in no time without anyone to calm his outbursts, and so he did get in trouble; the worst. The last couples of years, he had managed to be accused of vandalism, robbery and rape.
He closed his eyes, it had been quite tricky to bail him out after the rape story. Of course he had made sure the girl would not press charges against his brother, though with the beat he gave her, she had known better to comply or he would have killed her anyway. He smirked, remembering her scared face when she recognized him in her hospital room in Atlanta. Although he hadn't touched her that day, she had begun to break into tears at the only glimpse of his face, but he had quickly muffled her sobs as he hadn't wanted to draw attention of the cops on guard before her door. He smirked, those cops had been so pathetic. Dressed in scrubs, they had let him in without even a good look, which had played for him to impress the girl as she could see the nice protection the APDcould provide her.
A wicked smile spread over his lips. Then, without her testimony, Tommy had been released the next day. He had scolded his brother about his careless manner to leave a witness to charge him. Sure he, himself, wasn't a rapist, though he could indulge himself sometimes when he got an easy occasion with a poor, boozy girl, but his brother was just too stupid. Leaving the girl, alive, and able to talk was his big mistake. He sighed, thankfully he had been there to clean up the mess after Tommy, but sometimes he was really tired of cleaning up after him.
His glance went from his slouched brother in the old, weary couch to the noisy TV in front of him. So far, no news had talked about Taylor, and he wondered if the cops had finally found him. Even if they had put him MIA, they wouldn't release anything about him on TV until they'd have identified his body. He sighed, the boss wouldn't be pleased about the show then, but despite everyone learning Taylor was dead, the deal was done and the head of the crime lab wasn't gonna bother any of them anymore. He smiled. Taylor was the first step for him to crawl his way up. Now, if he played well, he could get closer to the boss and assure his place in the family. Yeah, Taylor had been a good thing for his future, no doubt about it. Now it was time for him to play another game.
xxx
Her gaze lost on the creamy tiles of the floor, Stella, strode toward Dr Shen's office, passing the busy nurses and doctors without a glance. Then, if she had looked up, she would have noticed the small frowns creasing the medical staff behind her, but right now she was too preoccupied for that; she had to talk to Mac's doctor. Okay, he had explained her about Mac's conditions and what could resultfrom it, and she had prepared herself for it, but her last talk with Mac and the way he had dismissed her wasn't him at all, and she wasn't sure what to think anymore. The talk with Sid had helped her to feel strong again, and she wasn't about to let any question about Mac go unanswered. No, she needed answers. If she wanted to be able to help him to go in the right direction, then, she needed some careful advice.
Stopping before the white, creamy door bearing the black stickers of Dr Shen's name, Surgeon, she took a deep breath and knocked. After hearing a muffled yes, she pushed the door open, revealing a small office, bathed in a dim light, the doctor was sitting behind his desk, a simple grey desk.
"Dr Shen? It's Detective Bonasera," she said, her hand still on the handle.
"Come in Detective, I was looking at your partner's results, please have a seat," he replied, his arm pointing at a chair before his desk.
She frowned at the mention of Mac's results. "How is he?" she asked quickly as she sat nervously before his desk.
The doctor ruffled through the file, the small dim light of his table lampbeaming directly on the blue files scattered on his desk, his lips were tight before he looked sternly at Stella. "I'm afraid I have to confirm my diagnostic, Detective. From what the results are showing us so far, it seems his body's going to heal without any sequel and that's a good news, but..." he paused, his gaze locking with Stella's. "But psychologically his mind is in a chaotic blur, right now."
Her heart stopped in her chest at these awful words. Until then, she had hoped Shen's diagnosis was wrong. She looked down at her trembling hands unable to make it stop. Mac, in a blur, her mind rambled in pain. How could it be? The man with all the answers, her friend, her rock among the tumbling waters of life; lost in a maze of confusion. She felt her walls crumbling around her, as she closed her eyes wearily. It was so unfair. She let out a heavy sigh as she looked up at Dr Shen. Why him?
"We kinda parted on wrong assumptions this morning..." she began, sorrow heavier now in her throat as she opened her eyes and looked at Dr Shen in misery. "I was wondering if..."
The doctor set back in his chair, releasing a small sigh, "Well considering his situation it's not surprising at all. I'm even amazed that you're not talking about sudden outbursts." His brows furrowed. "The nurses who came after you, described his behavior as grumpy, and edgy, though, he apologized afterwards, but you see, these kind of bursting temper are going to be more frequent until he has dealt with what's torturing his mind."
A deep crease carved her forehead. Mac had never acted like that, even though he could get angry sometime, he had never had any sudden outburst without a good reason.
"What can we do to avoid that?" she asked, with a hint of hope in her voice.
The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid you're not gonna be able to control this. You may try to temper his outbursts when they come out or avoid them from time to time but those are even beyond his own will."
Worries wrinkled her face once more. "What do you mean beyond his own will? Mac has always been able to control himself. He..."
"Not anymore," cut off Dr Shen with a soft voice. "I'm sorry. He might try, but this, won't disappear until he can remember what triggered them. Until then, he'll be filled by an uncontrollable anger and rage coming from the traumatic events that unleashed his current condition."
She closed her eyes. Her friend, the most patient man in the world, being unable to control his anger? That couldn't be true. She shook her head, it couldn't be possible. And yet, this morning, her mind reminded her, he hadn't been really himself.
The doctor lowered his tone. "He's gonna need all the help you and his friends can provide, because if what you said about his general behavior is true, being patient and controlled, then this is going to be even more confusing for him."
She nodded slightly, thinking about what Sid had said earlier. When you're hurt, he's hurt... if he's in pain, I'm in pain, she added for herself. "I don't intend to back down. I'm here for him. Whatever it takes."
The doctor gave her a kind smile. "Good, then I can give you the rest of the process you'll have to follow. I'm sure with your help and this treatment, he should be able to find a way to get back to his old self." He saw Stella's face lighting up. "But I must warn you," he added, his face wearing a more serious look. "There are no simple ways, and it's going to be hard on him, and you as well if you stay with him. I can't give you a time frame, or even promise you that he would be back one hundred percent, but I surely can say that it's going to be a rough road for both of you." He sighed. "Does he have any relative that could come to help? I know I've asked you that yesterday, but it's very important, familiar faces help the recovery."
Stella thought for a moment, she could call his mother but with her heart condition and knowing Mac wouldn't agree with it, she decided against it. It wouldn't be a good idea anyway. Now, there was Reed, but the young man, even if he was like a son to Mac was in Europe with his adoptive parents and wasn't due in New York before the end of next week. She doubted that Mac would have agreed to call him for that, though she should at least give him a call to warn him what to expect when he would be back. Yes, she could do that. She sighed.
"No, there's no one he would agree to see right now." Not even her or his team, she added sadly.
"Alright then," Dr Shen concluded. He locked a professional stare with Stella. "I guess you're only confirming what he signed for."
She frowned, confused by Shen's words. "He signed?"
"Yes. It seems, Detective Taylor put you in his medical file as his next of kin in case of an emergency." The doctor raised a brow at the stunned Stella before him. "You didn't know?"
"I had no idea," she admitted. "He never talked about it." She let out a deep breath, relieved he had done that. So, at least, he would have agreed to see me, her mind added with some joyful pride.
Somehow, it made things easier for her now. If Mac had already given her name, it was like an unspoken consentto stick with him in the worst storm of his life, even if it meant, him, being angry after her afterwards. Then, she'd do it. Another deep breath escaped her lips, more relaxed this time. Thank you Mac, for trusting me. A smile grazed her lips. This was the sign she needed to face him and whatever words would come from his mouth; she was assured now that it wouldn't be him. Being his next of kin was like a clear statement of what he thought of her, the faith he had placed in her. I won't let you down Mac. No matter what, I won't let you down.
She looked up at Dr Shen. "What should I do next?"
The doctor turned toward her a sight full of understanding and admiration from the work that awaited her, before he nodded lightly. "Then, this is the list of his medication," he handed her a piece of paper with his prescription.
Silently, Stella listened carefully as Dr Shen listed his medication's schedule and the physical training he had to follow in order not to strainhimself too much, which could trigger a sudden outburst. Then, after half an hour of precise description of what could look like increase of his symptoms, she took her leave and headed to Mac's room. Her stern gaze stared back at the floor, wondering if his mood had improved since this morning, though this time, her firm steps reflected her determination to fight to death for him.
A few minutes later, she stood right before his door, nodded to the officers on guard and took a deep breath. Okay, here we go, Mac.
She half pushed open the door and popped her head inside. Quickly, she caught sight of him lying quietly in his bed. His head was turned toward the window, visibly deep in thoughts or asleep, she wasn't sure. Anyway, she opted for him being asleep, and slunk not to awake him.
As she stopped near his bed, she noticed a faint twitch in the veins of his neck, and clenched her jaw. This can't be good. She had only seen him doing that a couple of times, and each time he had ended up shouting furiously, though it was for good reasons, but somehow, she felt that this time his wrath was going to be toward her. With the old Mac, she wouldn't have thought about what she might have done wrong, no, but she knew that her old Mac wasn't going to wake up before sometime now, and the only way to wake him up was to stand here and face whatever his tortured mind had come up with. Unconsciously, her body tensed, waiting for the blow, but as he didn't move nor acknowledge her presence, though she knew he was awake, she decided to initiate the talk. The sooner you go for it, the sooner it will be behind us, right?
"How do you feel, Mac?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
A long silence followed her words as his sight remained stuck to the window. The silence should have helped her to feel relax, but instead her heart beat even harder in her chest, hammering madly behind her temples. Something was wrong. Of course, something's wrong, he almost died, alone and thinking his life was a wreck, she scolded herself.
"I'm sorry for this morning, Mac," she dropped hoping this time he would judge her worthy to talk.
"I don't want to talk with you," he replied, anger simmering beneath his words.
She swallowed the blow as she noticed his face tensing under anger. "I... I understand your frustration and..."
"My frustration," he cut, his tone rising as he turned toward her an angry glare, his eyes sparkling dangerous daggers. "What about trust? Huh?"
"I..." She frowned, searching his eyes as he once again looked away, not leaving her any chance to connect with him. "I don't understand."
"Sure," he shot back, his eyes still staring at the window, but his body was stiffening under the controlled rage boiling inside him. "Thought you knew how to handle things for me, right?"
"What are you talking about Mac?" Now, she was really confused too. What happened when I wasn't there? Fear started to build up inside her chest as his heart monitor was showing the stress he was putting himself into, his heart line going up and down a bit too fast for her taste. But right now, she had no idea how to cool the burning rage that seemed to have settled place inside his mind. So she remained silent and let him vent out his anger towards her, until he was done, but it didn't come very fast as he seemed lost in his thoughts for a while.
This is just too much, his mind blew. How can she come here and scold me while she's stabbing me in the back? Damn woman. He had tried this morning to escape the nurses' attention, but each time the cops were still there. Sure, he could have tried to run, taking the stairs, but he wasn't sure if it was the drugs he was on or the loss of blood he had sustained, but when he had tried to stand on his own legs, he had felt his stomach heave in pain and had ended up in the bathroom, throwing up the small liquid breakfast they had given him this morning. He pouted at the thought. Linked to that damn IV pole and after gathering up twice his miserable, shaking body from the cold, bathroom floor; sicker and weaker than in the morning, he had decided to stick to his bed for the day. At least, tomorrow he should be able to try again, he hoped, and this time he would make sure that his body wouldn't be fueled with those drugs. He glanced at his IV pole, starting with that thing. So for the moment, he just needed Stella out of his room, and he would have to find a way to get that IV plug somewhere outside his body. He recalled her last words, as she played well the offended woman, and pouted as he replied bitterly.
"I guess your boss must be very proud of you and the way you manage to keep your prisoner in their hospital bed. Huh," he continued with a tight smirk, ignoring her.
"I... What?" she let escape, pondering about his last words. My boss? She rolled her eyes as she muffled a smirk and replied on the same icy tone he had used with her. "I don't know Mac, you tell me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he shot, furious, his eyes back on her now. Oh yeah, she was good for turning back his question, but he was good too, and he wasn't ready to give it up yet.
"Well, you are, my boss," she stressed the words. "So you must know if you're proud or not," she quipped, crossing her arms in front of her affecting a stern look.
"Your boss?" he smirked, raising his brows. "Yeah that's a good one." He looked at her stunned face at his words, but he chose to ignore it as he continued. "You see, if I hadn't met your friends, guarding my door, then maybe, maybe I would have bought it, like yesterday, but now it's not working."
"Story? What?" her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. "Don't you tell me, you still believe that crap about you being that scum bag. Oh Mac, C'mon! You should know better. Trust your gut, damn it!" she shot back as anger was now rising from her throat. She couldn't believe that they were back to square one. Sure, Dr Shen had told her it wasn't going to be easy, but that. She sighed wearily. "I know you don't remember, Mac, and it's not easy for you to trust me," she continued, her voice softening a little. "But these officers are here for your protection."
"If you say so," he huffed, turning his gaze toward the grey skycrapers far outside the hospital. Crap, that woman wasn't gonna tell him the truth.
She headed over to the other side of his bed, and stood firmly between him and the damn window he hadn't stopped looking at, her hands over her hips to hold her ground.
"Look at me Mac!" she called, a bit sharper than what she had intended to. She couldn't bear him thinking so little of him. Whatever happened, she wasn't going to let him think he was nothing for her or for this city. No way! It would destroy him.
He glared at her. Who the hell did she think she was to talk to him like that?
Her green, sparkling eyes locked with the deep, turquoise ocean of his. He could see the fear and anger burning in the depth of the green pools in front of him.
"Yes, protection, Mac, against the sick bastards who tried to kill you." She slammed. "The same who probably blew that building to be sure we wouldn't find you!"
Her voice was almost yelling in pain and frustration of not being able to reach her partner. Sad tears started to wet her eyes; they usually understood each other with a simple glance, but now it seemed as if there were huge, thick walls between them, and she was desperate to see how far they'd come.
Her glistening eyes full of sorrow and fresh tears, dammed suddenly his furious anger. She looked really hurt, he realized. She's making fun of you. It's fake, his anger called out. Don't trust her!
"So why haven't you told me before?" he replied, intrigued and confused at the same time by her heartbreaking behavior.
She wasn't behaving like a threat to him, he could see it, but he was curious about his own angry thoughts surging from nowhere. He felt so angry after her; after the nurses and this damned hospital; after the men that had tried to kill him; after the cops at his door, in fact, after everyone he could think of. He swallowed, not sure what to think anymore. Was he losing it?
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I thought you already had a lot to deal with and that would bring more stress on you, and..." she paused. "And I didn't want that."
Was she going to say something else, he pondered, a deep line creasing his forehead.
"So Flack and I, we put these officers in case they try to finish the job."
"To kill me?" He frowned. Her story sounded solid, but deep down a deafening anger was still burning, screaming at him that she was lying.
His eyes locked with the emerald pair waiting for him. He could feel the truth behind them. Though his gut could just be wrong, how could he be sure of his instinct? He sighed. He, her boss, targeted by men he didn't know, that was a lot to cope with on the same day. Maybe she was right, telling him that before would have increased his stress, but somehow he couldn't shake the feeling of having been betrayed, but by who?
"Tell ya what," she announced. "At the first occasion and when you'll feel strong enough, we'll go to your office. Then, you'll have plenty of time to decide if you can trust me or not. I won't be mad at you if you can't trust me till then, okay Mac?" She watched as he seemed to be struggling with himself, not sure of anything.
He bit his lower lip, thinking about his options. It looked like a reasonable proposition, but could it be another trap? He sighed, he was tired of this whole thing. He let his head rest back on the fluffy pillow behind him, and narrowed his eyes.
"We'll see then," he answered with a more neutral tone, his anger almost vanished from his voice.
"Good," a smile grazed her lips as she let out her breath. One step in the right direction, Stella. Still smiling, she grabbed a chair and sat, watching his tired features beginning to relax. "I talked to your doctor..." She continued, trying to head to another subject that could, this time, build back his trust in her, she hoped. Again she saw him tense, but this time she was prepared. "He said you were eager to leave this hospital and I agree with you. Can't say I love to spend my time here either; though in your case, your wounds won't heal if you go back to work that soon."
Going back to work. He hadn't thought of that, but he was sure he wanted to get the hell out of here, as soon as possible, so if she had an option as he could see it in her eyes, then he was ready to buy it. "What you have in mind?"
"Well, Dr Shen agreed to release you tomorrow if you follow his directions, meaning no stressful work, no workout or chasing..." She started to list as his eyes widened, surprised, he could leave so soon.
"I think I can do that," he finally said after she was done with her list. That's too easy. "What's the catch?" his brows raised slightly.
"Yeah you think so," she smirked, taking pleasure to speak without neither one of them shouting at the other for once. "Like you could rest quietly at home," she teased with a small smile.
"So if you don't believe I can, why are you here and not..." his voice trailed off as he locked his green, ocean eyes with hers. "Who?" He shot, as he realized where she was heading.
"That'd be me. I would have asked you first, but since you put me as your next of kin on your medical file, I guess I already know the answer. So you will be staying with me until you get better."
"You?" he stared at her, stunned. She's my next of kin. "Don't I have a family for that?"
She tightened her lips. "I'm sorry I can't..."
"Answer to that," he finished for her, letting out a frustrated yawn. "Yeah, I got that part already," he fussed, thrashing about in his bed, which only provoked more flaring pain soaring through his already too tired body. He hid a wince. "Tomorrow then. You and I." He stressed on the words, his jaw clenched from the pain and the thought of being coached by her. It felt so weird. He wasn't a kid. His anger burst again and he had to fight it not to let it rise. Maybe, if he could earn her trust, he would be able to get away on his own while she would be helping. So he remained quiet and watched as her face took a serious look.
"You want me to leave and give you some time alone, Mac," she asked, a pinch at her heart at the idea of leaving him again.
He sighed. "Yes." He needed time to cope with all these new information and get rid of the drugs too, and maybe prepare a plan to escape this whole thing. He observed her as her face decomposed at his word. What if they were really friends? Then he was stretching their friendship to the limit. She's not your friend, his confused mind shot. Let just see how things turn.
She nodded slowly at his straight answer. Standing up, her sight wandered with sorrow to the floor, trying to push away the disappointing feeling that submerged her. "I'll come back tomorrow to pick you up." She replied with a small voice.
"Stella," he called with a hoarse voice as she headed to the door.
Stopping, she turned toward him, her golden curls bouncing on her shoulders; her face desperately trying to hide the pain that had filled her being and was now reddening her eyes. "Yes?"
"I need some time to think alone," he repeated, with a soft voice.
"I understand..."
"But I can use some company tonight," he cut her off, his voice warmer this time and his eyes observing her reaction.
A wide smile spread over her face. "I'll be back around then," she replied, relieved. Finally, a part of the Mac she knew was back.
He nodded, as she watched his eyes close from exhaustion.
If they had to stick around each other for some time, then it was logical that he try to get to know her. He sighed, unsure of what was awaiting him outside. If she was right, he had a life as a cop, her boss. On the other hand, if she was playing him, then he had nothing to expect and nowhere to go. He sighed. It all comes down to trust, he thought as he drifted to a world of shattered dreams.
xxx
"Stop watching this crap, Tommy!" growled Martin as he shot an angry stare at his brother, slouchedin the old, navy couch.
It was the third time in the last couple hours he had to reprimand his brother, and now he had enough. He snatched the damn remote from his brother's hands when the phone rang. He checked his watch; 8:32 PM, and frowned; who the hell could be calling at this time?
He was about to ask the identity of the intruder when his body tensed unconsciously under the angry, well known voice yelling on the other side.
"What the hell happened?" yelled the boss. "You said he was dead."
Martin glanced at his brother, becoming nervous. "He's dead, boss, we..." He began, but was cut short by another blow.
"Don't give me your shit! I'm not in the mood for that. Just put your damned TV on channel four!" shouted the boss through the phone.
Without waiting a second, Martin pressed on the fourth button. A female reporter wrapped in a heavy coat appeared on the screen. She was talking before a crumpled building, the snow falling in bundles from the right side of the screen as the camera caught the heavy, white flakes. The report was obviously live, as he read the subtitle; Unexplained collapsed building kills at Triborough, Long Island.
"...Yes Mike, as you can see," spoke the reporter. "The police are still trying to figure outwhat happened on the 58th of the 31rd street. Though the building that was standing behind me was scheduled to be destroyed next week, the NYPD has no evidence of a malfunction so far."
"I see your point Leslie, it's a strange coincidence that Detective Taylor happened to be there when it collapsed." The reporter in New York's studio replied sternly.
"Exactly Mike, the head of the crime lab is known for his thoroughness and going in this building knowing it could collapse at any time, for no precise alarm is really unlikely."
Martin smirked. Yeah, Taylor had been definitely screwed because of his girl. Talk about a smart guy when a slap from his chick could turn him into a wreck. He sneered. That piece of man deserved what happened to him. No real man should let a woman tell him off like that.
"Ah Leslie, do we have more details about Detective Taylor's conditions? "
"Well," she took a step back to let the camera take a closer look at the collapsed building behind her. "I've learned that he was pulled from this awful wreck late yesterday and sent to Queen of Mercy in critical condition." She turned toward the camera. "The Chief of the Detectives, Chief Sinclair, declared this morning to the press that it seems that his life is no longer in danger, although he refused to give any further comment about what Detective Taylor sustained during his ordeal. So hopefully, he would be up and about in no time as we know his tough reputation, but we can say that it was a close call for him and his team, Mike."
"Thanks Leslie, I guess New York City's gonna sleep relieved, knowing one of his best cops is going to be fine tonight..." the reporter paused shuffling with papers before him and then looked back at the camera. "Now let's check the current weather; Derek? You said that this storm should stick for a longer period, is that right?"
"Yes Mike..." spoke a young man in a blue suit before the map of the state of New York.
But Martin wasn't listening anymore. Shit! Taylor is alive. Slowly, he set back the phone to his ear.
"I will take care of the problem," he spoke as he gritted his teeth.
"You'd better," threatened the voice of the boss. "And this time make sure he's dead before you leave him. No! Correct that. Bring me his body. I want to check by myself, since I can't trust you for doing a kid's job."
Martin swallowed the blow and clenched his jaw while he closed his eyes as the line went dead. That was close, he thought as he hung up.
"Tommy?"
"Yeah Marty," growled his brother, his head turning toward him.
"You stick here until I come back, okay?"
"Yeah," he said grabbing the remote his brother was handing him, and starting to change the channel.
Martin nodded. "I'll be back in a few. I expect you here when I come back, right?"
"Yeah, where you gonna go?" he asked as he settled on a drama show.
"Say hi to an ol' friend. So you stick around, okay? After what happened, we got to keep a low profile, and I don't want you chasin' any first girl that smiles at you, okay?"
"I'm not like that." Tommy defended himself, taking offense in his brothers' words.
"Oh yes you are, just do the damn thing I'm askin', okay?" replied Martin, anger back in his voice.
Tommy muffled something before his attention went back to the screen. Martin watched for a minute as his brother was quickly engrossed in a crime scene discovery. He shook his head quietly and headed to the door, thinking. Walking in the corridor, his mind began to prepare a plan.
To kill the cop, he'd have to find him, first. He thought for a minute before a wicked smile spread over his face, remembering what the reporter had said. Taylor was treated at the Queen of Mercy. He swore silently entering the elevator. This time had to be the right one.
Thirty minutes later, after crossing the city, he entered the Queen of Mercy's ER and went straight to the intern's locker. He knew how doctors could be so careless and trusting sometimes, leaving their lockers open. This was always a good opportunity to get the best outfit to pass any police line without being noticed, and this time wasn't going to be that different.
Then, once he would be with Taylor, he already had his special cocktail ready; a mix of different drugs, the thing killed in a few hours. From people to people, the symptoms appeared to be very different, going from a mild headache to real illusion and panic attack but in the end, it always appeared like a heart attack going with a natural death. He smiled as he pressed on the small needle safely tucked inside his pocket.
Pushing on the intern's locker door, he glanced quickly inside. The empty place was quiet and poorly lighted. My luck, he murmured as he went in order to change. And as usual, among all the lockers, he had found several opened and waiting for him to take what he needed. Quickly, he pulled out a set of fresh, blue scrubs, and headed to Mac's room. According to the nurse, he'd talked to on the phone, his room was on the fifth floor. As he walked with a firm pace, soon he faced the police guards, addressed them a slight nod and went inside. A wicked grin spread over his face. Those cops were really so useless.
The room was bathed in a dim orange light, and his prey was snuggled warmly under the sheets, eyes closed, and waiting for him to steal his life. He smiled, Taylor seemed sound asleep. Quickly, he checked the monitors and watched for a moment his heart line going up and down and wondered if his plan was going to work, or if he shouldn't adapt. Sometimes, adaptation was a good thing and killing a sleeping cop could be as easy as stealing a lollipop from a baby. Seeing, the cop's tensed face, he assumed he was probably under heavy painkillers and that was good for him. It would likely slow the cop's moves if he happened to wake up and even keep him asleep. He smirked, so if he wanted to just chokehim with his pillow, there would be nobody to stop him. He sneered at his sleeping victim; that cop had no chance with him since the boss had given him his name, he was dead from day one.
He stepped to Mac's bedside, and smiled wickedly as his prey didn't seem to stir, deeply asleep. He noticed the black stitches on the left side of his head and remembered when Carl had hit him. Three against one, it had been Carl, who had whacked his head off after he had managed to throw Tommy against the wall and him flying on the other side of the room. He smiled, but this time that damned devil had no way to get out. Then, let's go for poison, he thought with joy, preparing the needle. He took off the protecting cap and grabbed Mac's IV line with the other hand.
He was about to insert the needle inside the IV dropswhen the door was pushed open. As soon as he heard steps, he set back the deadly tool in his coat pocket and looked at the monitor, as if he waschecking Mac's vitals.
Trying to remain as calm as possible, he heard the grazing sound of a chair being pulled behind him and then, someone sitting with a deep sigh. Shit too late! He cursed his bad timing, and headed quietly to the door, his hand nervously fidgeting with the syringe in his pocket. See you soon Taylor, he thought as he pushed the door and exited, choosing to retreat strategically.
xxx
She glanced at the man lying asleep in the hospital bed and a tight smile grazed her lips as a doctor checked his vitals and exited his room. Stella glanced at her watch, almost 10 PM, she noticed before her gaze went back to Mac's sleeping face; his features now relaxed, he looked more like the old Mac she had come to know; patient, calm, understanding, and mostly trying to shield her from every bad thought he could have.
She smiled wearily but then, it quickly faded when her eyes met the gauzewrapped around his right wrist. Today hadn't been the best day in her life, though seeing Mac alive and speaking was the best news she could have wished for, but they had fought a couple of times, and that alone, was enough to make her sad. A deep fear settled in the pit of her stomach as she was just realizing what rough road was ahead of them. Until she had seen him behave this oddly with her, she had really thought that Mac was going to get through this like he always did, with one of his famous stunts and a charming grin, but she wasn't so sure anymore. After their second talk this afternoon, she had come back to see him as he had asked her, but unfortunately he was already asleep, and since then, he hadn't made a move to make her believe otherwise. She sighed, at least, the last time he had asked her to come back, so she could assume they were making progress, and since it was Mac, she wasn't about to lose hope. Never. She allowed a small smile to graze her lips; the important thing is him to be alive and with me, right?
Quietly, she eased herself back into the hard, metallic chair, getting ready for another restless night watch. Even though Flack had placed two guards before Mac's door, she couldn't shake the idea that his life was still in jeopardy. No, she had been too close to lose him this time and she wasn't about to take his safety for granted anymore. She sighed, hopefully tomorrow would be a better day, when she intended to help Mac recover his memory as quickly as possible. As time passed, she felt her eyelids drop wearily and finally felt sleep claim her in a world where her Mac was coming back to her.
...TBC
A/N: Well, I didn't want to finish on a big cliffie this time.:) So I managed to put a lot of things in this one, though there's still a lot to come.
So let me know what you think of this chapter and what you think it's going to happen to Mac and Stella now. Did Martin will be smart enough to get to Mac? Or is Stella going to find out about Martin's threat before? Bets are on...